"I expect you don"t get such skies as this up in Rouen," said the judge, looking at the girl from between half-closed eyelids.
"It"s the same Indiana sky, I think," she answered.
"I guess maybe in the city you don"t see as much of it, or think as much about it. Yes, they"re the Indiana skies," the old man went on.
Skies as blue As the eyes of children when they smile at you."
"There aren"t any others anywhere that ever seemed much like them to me. They"ve been company for me all my life. I don"t think there are any others half as beautiful, and I know there aren"t any as sociable. They were always so." He sighed gently, and Miss Sherwood fancied his wife must have found the Indiana skies as lovely as he had, in the days of long ago. "Seems to me they _are_ the softest and bluest and kindest in the world."
"I think they are," said Helen, "and they are more beautiful than the "Italian skies," though I doubt if many of us Hoosiers realize it; and--certainly no one else does."
The old man leaned over and patted her hand. Harkless gasped. ""Us Hoosiers!"" chuckled the judge. "You"re a great Hoosier, young lady! How much of your life have you spent in the State? "Us Hoosiers!""
"But I"m going to be a good one," she answered, gaily, "and if I"m good enough, when I grow up maybe I"ll be a great one."
The buckboard had been brought around, and the four young people climbed in, Harkless driving. Before they started, the judge, standing on the horse-block in front of the gate, leaned over and patted Miss Sherwood"s hand again. Harkless gathered up the reins.
"You"ll make a great Hoosier, all right," said the old man, beaming upon the girl. "You needn"t worry about that, I guess, my dear."
When he said "my dear," Harkless spoke to the horses.
"Wait," said the judge, still holding the girl"s hand. "You"ll make a great Hoosier, some day; don"t fret. You"re already a very beautiful one." Then he bent his white head and kissed her, gallantly. John said: "Good afternoon, judge"; the whip cracked like a pistol-shot, and the buckboard dashed off in a cloud of dust.
"Every once in a while, Harkless," the old fellow called after them, "you must remember to look at the team."
The enormous white tent was filled with a hazy yellow light, the warm, dusty, mellow light that thrills the rejoicing heart because it is found nowhere in the world except in the tents of a circus--the canvas-filtered sunshine and sawdust atmosphere of show day. Through the entrance the crowd poured steadily, coming from the absorptions of the wild-animal tent to feast upon greater wonders; pa.s.sing around the sawdust ellipse that contained two soul-cloying rings, to find seats whence they might behold the splendors so soon to be unfolded. Every one who was not buying the eternal lemonade was eating something; and the faces of children shone with gourmand rapture; indeed, very often the eyes of them were all you saw, half-closed in palate-gloating over a huge apple, or a bulky oblong of popcorn, partly unwrapped from its blue tissue-paper cover; or else it might be a luscious pink crescent of watermelon, that left its ravisher stained and dripping to the brow.
Here, as in the morning, the hawkers raised their cries in unintermittent shrillness, offering to the musically inclined the Happy Evenings Song-book, alleged to contain those treasures, all the latest songs of the day, or presented for the consideration of the humorous the Lawrence Lapearl Joke-book, setting forth in full the art of comical entertainment and repartee. (Schofields" Henry bought two of these--no doubt on the principle that two were twice as instructive as one--intending to bury himself in study and do battle with Tom Martin on his own ground.)
Here swayed the myriad palm-leaf fans; here paraded blushing youth and rosy maiden, more relentlessly arm-in-arm than ever; here crept the octogenarian, Mr. Bodeffer, shaking on cane and the shoulder of posterity; here waddled Mr. Snoddy, who had hurried through the animal tent for fear of meeting the elephant; here marched st.u.r.dy yeomen and stout wives; here came William Todd and his Anna Belle, the good William hushed with the embarra.s.sments of love, but looking out warily with the white of his eye for Mr. Martin, and determined not to sit within a hundred yards of him; here rolled in the orbit of habit the baccha.n.a.l, Mr. Wilkerson, who politely answered in kind all the uncouth roarings and guttural e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.i.o.ns of jungle and fen that came from the animal tent; in brief, here came with lightest hearts the population of Carlow and part of Amo.
Helen had found a true word: it was a big family. Jim Bardlock, broadly smiling and rejuvenated, shorn of depression, paused in front of the "reserve" seats, with Mrs. Bardlock on his arm, and called loudly to a gentleman on a tier about the level of Jim"s head: "How are ye? I reckon we were a _little_ too smart fer "em, this morning, huh?" Five or six hundred people--every one within hearing--fumed to look at Jim; but the gentleman addressed was engaged in conversation with a lady and did not notice.
"Hi! Hi, there! _Say_! Mr. Harkless!" bellowed Jim, informally. The people turned to look at Harkless. His attention was arrested and his cheek grew red.
"_What is it_?" he asked, a little confused and a good deal annoyed.
"I don"t hear what ye say," shouted Jim, putting his hand to his ear.
"_What is it_?" repeated the young man. "I"ll kill that fellow to-night," he added to Lige Willetts. "Some one ought to have done it long ago."
"What?"
"I _say_, WHAT IS IT?"
"I only wanted to say me and you certainly did fool these here Hoosiers this morning, huh? Hustled them two fellers through the court-house, and n.o.body never thought to slip round to the other door and head us off.
Ha, ha! We were jest a _leetle_ too many fer "em, huh?"
From an upper tier of seats the rusty length of Mr. Martin erected itself joint by joint, like an extension ladder, and he peered down over the gaping faces at the Town Marshal. "Excuse me," he said sadly to those behind him, but his dry voice penetrated everywhere, "I got up to hear Jim say "We" again."
Mr. Bardlock joined in the laugh against himself, and proceeded with his wife to some seats, forty or fifty feet distant. When he had settled himself comfortably, he shouted over cheerfully to the unhappy editor: "Them sh.e.l.l-men got it in fer you, Mr. Harkless."
"Ain"t that fool shet up _yit_?" snarled the aged Mr. Bodeffer, indignantly. He was sitting near the young couple, and the expression of his sympathy was distinctly audible to them and many others. "Got no more regards than a brazing calf-disturbin" a feller with his sweetheart!"
"The both of "em says they"re goin" to do fer you," bleated Mr.
Bardlock. "Swear they"ll git their evens with ye."
Mr. Martin rose again. "Don"t git scared and leave town, Mr. Harkless,"
he called out; "Jim"ll protect you."
Vastly to the young man"s relief the band began to play, and the equestrians and equestriennes capered out from the dressing-tent for the "Grand Entrance," and the performance commenced. Through the long summer afternoon it went on: wonders of horsemanship and horsewomanship; hair-raising exploits on wires, tight and slack; giddy tricks on the high trapeze; feats of leaping and tumbling in the rings; while the tireless musicians blatted inspiringly through it all, only pausing long enough to allow that uproarious jester, the clown, to ask the ring-master what he would do if a young lady came up and kissed him on the street, and to exploit his hilarities during the short intervals of rest for the athletes.
When it was over, John and Helen found themselves in the midst of a densely packed crowd, and separated from Miss Briscoe and Lige. People were pushing and shoving, and he saw her face grow pale. He realized with a pang of sympathy how helpless he would feel if he were as small as she, and at his utmost height could only see big, suffocating backs and huge shoulders pressing down from above. He was keeping them from crowding heavily upon her with all his strength, and a royal feeling of protectiveness came over him. She was so little. And yet, without the remotest hint of hardness, she gave him such a distinct impression of poise and equilibrium, she seemed so able to meet anything that might come, to understand it--even to laugh at it--so Americanly capable and sure of the event, that in spite of her pale cheek he could not feel quite so protective as he wished to feel.
He managed to get her to one of the tent-poles, and placed her with her back to it. Then he set one of his own hands against it over her head, braced himself and stood, keeping a little s.p.a.ce about her, ruggedly letting the crowd surge against him as it would; no one should touch her in rough carelessness.
"Thank you. It was rather trying in there," she said, and looked up into his eyes with a divine grat.i.tude.
"Please don"t do that," he answered in a low voice.
"Do what?"
"Look like that."
She not only looked like that, but more so. "Young man, young man," she said, "I fear you"re wishful of turning a girl"s head."
The throng was thick around them, garrulous and noisy, but they two were more richly alone together, to his appreciation, than if they stood on some far satellite of Mars. He was not to forget that moment, and he kept the picture of her, as she leaned against the big blue tent-pole, there, in his heart: the clear gray eyes lifted to his, the delicate face with the color stealing back to her cheeks, and the brave little figure that had run so straight to him out of the night shadows. There was something about her, and in the moment, that suddenly touched him with a saddening sweetness too keen to be borne; the forget-me-not finger of the flying hour that could not come again was laid on his soul, and he felt the tears start from his heart on their journey to his eyes. He knew that he should always remember that moment. She knew it, too. She put her hand to her cheek and turned away from him a little tremulously. Both were silent.
They had been together since early morning. Plattville was proud of him.
Many a friendly glance from the folk who jostled about them favored his suit and wished both of them well, and many lips, opening to speak to Harkless in pa.s.sing, closed when their owners (more tactful than Mr.
Bardlock) looked a second time.
Old Tom Martin, still perched alone On his high seat, saw them standing by the tent-pole, and watched them from under his rusty hat brim. "I reckon it"s be"n three or four thousand years since I was young," he sighed to himself; then, pushing his hat still further down over his eyes: "I don"t believe I"d ort to rightly look on at that." He sighed again as he rose, and gently spoke the name of his dead wife: "Marjie,--it"s be"n lonesome, sometimes. I reckon you"re mighty tired waitin" for me, ever since sixty-four--yet maybe not; Ulysses S. Grant"s over on your side now, and perhaps you"ve got acquainted with him; you always thought a good deal more of him than you did of me."
"Do you see that tall old man up there?" said Helen, nodding her head toward Martin. "I think I should like to know him. I"m sure I like him."
"That is old Tom Martin."
"I know."
"I was sorry and ashamed about all that conspicuousness and shouting.
It must have been very unpleasant for you; it must have been so, for a stranger. Please try to forgive me for letting you in for it."
"But I liked it. It was "all in the family," and it was so jolly and good-natured, and that dear old man was so bright. Do you know," she said softly, "I don"t think I"m such a stranger--I--I think I love all these people a great deal--in spite of having known them only two days."
At that a wild exhilaration possessed him. He wanted to shake hands with everybody in the tent, to tell them all that he loved them with his whole heart, but, what was vastly more important, _she_ loved them a great deal--in spite of having known them only two days!
He made the horses prance on the homeward drive, and once, when she told him that she had read a good many of his political columns in the "Herald," he ran them into a fence. After this it occurred to him that they were nearing their destination and had come at a perversely sharp gait; so he held the roans down to a snail"s pace (if it be true that a snail"s natural gait is not a trot) for the rest of the way, while they talked of Tom Meredith and books and music, and discovered that they differed widely about Ibsen.